


A Roll in the Hay

by AvrielleRogue



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-02
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 06:52:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1028596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvrielleRogue/pseuds/AvrielleRogue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teagan and Neria take advantage of a stolen moment alone in Redcliffe’s Windmill, but with Zevran and Alistair right outside, time is short, and they may have to pick up later where they left off. (Fill for a kmeme prompt.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Roll in the Hay

Urges seemed to come at the most inopportune of times these days. Although, Neria supposed, when you were a Grey Warden during a Blight, all times were equally inopportune and potentially the last chance one had for happiness. Still, she couldn’t help cocking her head to one side in disbelief trying to figure out if the Arl’s brother, Bann Teagan, was actually flirting with her in Redcliffe’s Chantry.

She was only trying to gain as much information as she could, lightening the situation by asking about Teagan’s personal life, but they somehow got on the topic of marriage. It seemed he hadn’t yet had the pleasure, and she soon found herself unable to pay attention to his words. The way his deep voice resonated within her as he spoke sent shivers down her spine. A mischievous glint in his eye and smirking grin as he waved away his marital status seemed to allude to a knowledge of the flesh joined outside matrimonial duty. Or was she just looking for salaciousness where none was to be found?

He turned the conversation back to her, asking if she were wed, and she flushed over the impure thoughts of him and various positions she couldn’t sweep from her brain. She stupidly answered, “I’m a mage,” as if that settled that.

“I can think of  _several_  reasons why one would be willing to be so brave,” he replied, and she couldn’t take her eye off the gentle red braid tucked behind the man’s ear. She wet her lips and imagined tugging at the lobe softly between her teeth, continuing the distracting banter.

 “Have you  _had_  much experience with mages, then?” she asked, reining in distraction in favor of boldness. “I’ve found humans wary to be left alone with us.”

“Oh, I’ve had fair exposure to those with such power. But it’s elves I’ve yearned to have a more intimate understanding of. Perhaps one day  _you_  might give me the pleasure.”

Neria gaped at him, caught between his boldness and her urge to match it, aching to admit it would be her great honor to give him the pleasure, when Zevran loudly cleared his throat behind her. She shot him a look, and he raised his eyebrows, grinning in non apology. They did have a job to do, after all.

…

The battle for Redcliffe was exhausting. Although Neria much preferred fighting the undead to darkspawn, watching them sizzle under her flames and collapse into a pathetic pile of bones, destroying their sheer numbers took most of the night. In the moments of calm before the next wave descended upon them, she allowed herself imagined fantasies of what it must be like to be Teagan’s lover. Dressed in fine silks, sleeping next to his warm barrel chest in a real bed night after night; all of the perks of nobility with none of the strain of ruling that would fall to Eamon. These thoughts rallied a strength within her that kept her fighting until morning and inspired others to do the same.

Neria approached Teagan the next day as he stood overlooking the quiet castle. In the peace of the morning, it almost seemed as if no one were inside, but she knew the eerie silence just meant there were far more battles ahead.

Teagan was all too happy to chat with her, seeming to be in good spirits, grateful the town had not been lost. When a half-crazed Orlesian woman ran around the curling path from the castle to Teagan’s side, a flash of jealousy crossed Neria’s thoughts until she realized it must be Eamon’s wife.

Teagan looked just as annoyed with the woman and stole apologetic glances at Neria whenever he got the chance. It seemed the woman and Alistair knew one another. After promising to do everything they could to save the castle, the party watched her stumble off with a castle guard, hand dramatically draped across her brow.

Zevran began to tease Alistair for his suggested history with the woman, which sent the ex-templar stammering and protesting so loudly, Neria didn’t notice Teagan approaching her side. Teagan took her hand in his so suddenly, she nearly drew the other to her mouth with a small gasp of surprise.

“I wanted to thank you for all you did last night,” he said. “I truly don’t know what we would have done without your assistance.”

“Ser Teagan, you flatter me. I saw  _you_  out there, sword in hand. I’m sure your night wouldn’t have been much different with you leading the charge.”

“Permit me to disagree, my lady. But I do hope my  _nights_  will be much different, now I’ve met you.”

Neria’s heart began to race as Teagan’s stormy blue eyes electrified the blood within her, sending it gushing southward.

“There was something I hoped to show you, if my lady would permit me,” he said, tugging her hand toward the windmill behind him. She glanced at her companions still bickering and turned back around, hesitantly.

“Just you, my lady.” He dipped his head nobly toward her, but didn’t break eye contact. “I promise to return you soon.”

The door to the windmill clicked behind her, and she spun around to face the Bann, wary for the briefest of moments that this had been a trap to lure her away from her party.

With a low wolflike growl, Teagan grasped her tiny shoulders pushed Neria against the wall of the mill, pressing his lips hungrily against hers. For an instant, she was too shocked to react, but as she felt his arousal stiffening against her leg, she knew she was a helpless slave to her own desires. She parted her mouth, nipping playfully at his lower lip before welcoming his warm tongue inside her. Swirling his tongue around hers, the Bann grasped the sides of Neria’s face before raking his fingers sensually through her short dark hair.

Teagan broke away to gaze into her eyes, and apologized breathlessly. “My lady, I realize this is no time for such impulses, but I simply couldn’t stand it any longer.” He traced a finger along the ridge of her sensitive ears, and she shuddered under his touch. “From the moment I met you, I’ve tried to force impure thoughts to the back of my mind, but your bravery and selflessness last night, your strength…” The words trailed off as he nuzzled in the warmth of her neck.

“Teagan, I —” Neria gasped as his mouth slowly traveled down the blessedly thin fabric of her silken robes, taking hold of a hardening nipple before continuing downward.

“Say you’ll have me, my lady, right here, away from all the wickedness beyond these walls. The Blight will still be there when we’re finished, but only the Maker can know if the opposite is true.”

He began bunching up the hem of her robes, and Neria nearly stumbled backwards into the door. Teagan braced a strong arm around her and guided the two of them to a stack of hay bales in the corner as she sputtered at his boldness. Zevran and Alistair could still be heard chattering right outside the thin walls.

“Can we?” she asked. “I mean, do we possibly have the time?”

“I intend to find out,” he said, grinning. He tucked a lock of dark hair behind Neria’s long ears and gently spun her away from him, planting sweet kisses along the nape of her neck. She threw her head back to rest upon his shoulder and he snaked an arm around her waist to pull her roughly against him. A moan escaped her lips, and Teagan again grabbed for the hem of her robes, bunching them into a fist over her round bottom.

Cupping a silken breast with one hand, Teagan slid the other between her soft folds and gave a low growl when he found her as dewy and primed as he was. He parted her with a second finger, sliding her wetness around the sensitive nub at her front, and Neria purred in response.

…

“D’you suppose it’s a necromancer?” Alistair asked.

Zevran turned from the mill to face the innocent Warden. “I beg your pardon.”

“I just mean there’s so many  _corpses_  about. Anyone can kill droves of people, but I imagine it’s the _reanimating_  that really separates the mages from the apostates.”

“I…hadn’t given it much thought,” said Zevran distantly. “Though I’ve found stabbing undead horrors right away does more for one’s longevity than stopping to ask them why they’re prancing about.”

Alistair scoffed. “I know a certain Chasind who probably knows  _allll_  about it. Void take her, they’re probably her  _friends_.” He raised an eyebrow haughtily towards the town below, where the rest of the party rested before the next battle.

“Or, if you want to keep your manhood, perhaps we could ask the necromancer himself.  _If_  we ever make it into the castle.”

“Yeah,” Alistair said, suddenly abandoning his favored topic of distaste for Morrigan. “Wasn’t the Warden here just moments ago? Where do you suppose she’s gone?”

Zevran turned toward the mill, torn between letting the lovers have their moment of peace and barging in to introduce the two Fereldans to an Antivan Milk Sandwich.

Ah, but Alistair would never understand, would he? Such a pity.

…

Teagan nudged Neria’s tiny foot with the toe of his leather boot, spreading her legs ever wider. With a gentle grip but savage longing, he bent her over a tall bale of hay, rubbing her smooth ass with the palm of his hand before stinging it with a quick smack. Neria squealed in delight and tilted her ass higher, welcoming his stiff warmth deep into her sex.

Teagan’s britches were unlaced with astonishing speed and fell to his ankles before being kicked to the side. A gasp caught in Neria’s throat as her lover wasted no time guiding his steely cock between her legs. She slipped a hand to her center, spreading herself apart and rose to her tiptoes to allow him entrance. With a savage thrust, the head of his manhood broke through her soft folds.

Knowing her companions could rap impatiently at the door at any moment didn’t stop Neria’s longing desire to take the Bann into her slowly, riding his full length and feeling it crush inside her to the very hilt. She grasped at the prickly corner of the hay, grinding her bottom hard into Teagan. The man crashed against her, digging frantically deeper and deeper. Neria’s mind was swimming, and she shot a hand behind her to grasp Teagan’s ass and pound it more furiously against hers.

The ferocity of her touch seemed to unhinge something within him, and Teagan grunted savagely, pumping faster and faster, causing Neria’s little legs to shake uncontrollably against the scratchy straw. With a primal roar, Teagan yanked the elf by the hipbones towards his own, and she could feel his warm seed spilling inside her. Fingers swirling frantic circles around her sensitive nub, Neria tried to coax herself over the edge, but distractions piled up a barrier around her completion.

Teagan leaned weakly against the hay next to her and rubbed a soft finger under her chin, purring at her to come for him, to no avail. She gave a soft frustrated sigh and let her robes fall down around her.

“My lady, I have failed as a gentleman.” Teagan’s eyes glued to the floor of the mill like a guilty schoolboy. “If I had but an ounce of control over my body, I would have ravished you with my mouth alone and finished myself later, with your sweet face and tender curves guiding my thoughts.”

“Nonsense, ser,” she assured him, straining to keep regret from her voice. “My companions will be wondering where we’ve been off to. Besides, I… it, er, sometimes takes a while.”

Teagan took her tiny hand in his and, with a deep bow, brought it to his lips and kissed deeply.

“If you would permit me the great honor of lying with you again, after all this darkness that surrounds the castle has been lifted, I vow we can take as long as you need.”

An impish grin forced itself across Neria’s face. “You would promise such things without knowing how long I could take?”

Teagan leaned in to her ear, his hot breath sending butterflies thrumming around deep within her stomach. “I would have you begging me to stop.”

…

The celebration banquet was more extravagant than anything Neria had ever seen. Not an inch of room was left on the table, as steaming, brightly colored courses were rotated out all throughout the evening, seeming never to stay long enough to deplete.

Some of the higher nobles took to the wooden floor directly after the dessert course to blow off a little steam. Despite all the joy surrounding her, however, Neria didn’t feel like joining the revelry. She had been searching the room since she entered hopefully in a pale pink gown, but she hadn’t been able to spot Teagan’s ruddy hair or colorful surcoat.

A seat was left conspicuously empty next to Eamon and Isolde early on in the night, but it had quickly been filled with an upwardly mobile party guest. Still, he could have entered later and just escaped her view.

There was another reason, however, she hadn’t wanted to join her companions dancing on the floor. The fluid and reckless movements reminded her too much of the puppet strings controlling Teagan while under the thrall of the Desire Demon. The memory sent shudders up her spine, and for the moment, she empathized with Morrigan sulking in a corner, rolling her eyes at these fools who had come so close to utter destruction. She supposed she should have thanked the Maker that they hadn’t, but she felt too weary and exhausted to do much but collapse into her bed in Eamon’s estate.

Approaching her suite early from the dark hallway, Neria could tell something was amiss. The door was cracked and a warm glow spilled out, though she had informed the servant elves she wouldn’t be needing their services and to take the evening off. Cautiously, she stood against the wall opposite the doorway and opened the door further with her staff. A sweet aroma caught her attention. With no immediate danger waiting for the first sight of her return, she ventured to peer around the corner.

Within the room, Teagan stood confidently and expectantly, eyes lighting up when he realized Neria had returned. He took in the sight of her slender pale gown and, for the moment, was rendered speechless.

In the flickering candlelight, Neria could see why Teagan had been absent from the dinner celebration. Every inch of her room was covered with delicate and lush red rose petals, the likes of which she hadn’t seen in months. He must have had them delivered from a neighboring arl in the south, but it would have taken… about the length of time since they last shared a brief stolen moment together.

“My lady, I hope I didn’t startle you. I would do well to remember my Warden’s constant vigilance.” Teagan beamed, full of emotion as he took in her gentle figure. He strode towards her and wrapped his large arms around her waist. Neria melted against him and circled her own around the base of his neck. “Even more, I hope you forgive the intrusion. I imagine you’ll be exhausted, but I simply had to see you.”

The elf grinned mischievously up at him. “May I save my forgiveness until the morning? A recent roll in the hay  _did_  leave me somewhat wanting.”

Teagan narrowed his eyes and his lascivious smile widened. “My little minx, you can save your forgiveness until the  _afternoon_  when we wake.”

In one fluid motion, he lifted Neria off the ground and carried her to the four-poster bed, laying her atop the velvety rose petals. Hovering above her on all fours, Teagan gazed down, lost deep in her eyes.

She ached for his hungry grasp, the same that had been ghosting on her shoulder ever since their time together at the windmill. He’d left a few light bruises from his rough hold on her, and in the days that followed, she had persisted in poking and prodding at them, eager for the dull ache that had brought with it such memories of pleasure.

Teagan took his time, first pressing his lips lightly to hers, parting them gently and slowly, running a silken tongue along her own. The tickled pleasure was exquisite, but hadn’t she had enough of the tease?

She itched to unleash her Warden, roll over top of him and take him like she wanted to be taken. But she believed his promise and was eager to have it fulfilled.

Neria shivered under calloused hands as they ran overtop her gown, along the round curves of her breasts and down her waist. Sliding inwards, he brushed his hands across her soft mound, and she arched her back in response, aching for more.

Instead, he slid his hands down the length of her legs and crouched at the foot of the bed, grasping onto her bare ankles. Slowly, he inched upwards, the hem of the gown catching on his wrists as he lifted it to her waist.

He rocked back on his heels to take in the sight of her delicateness before him, looking as if he were about to kneel forward in reverence. Tracing a finger along her inner thigh, he tantalized almost to her breaking point before graciously slipping inside her warm center.

A low growl rumbled in the back of his throat to find her so wet for him, and he rewarded her by curling the finger roughly along the roof of her insides. Neria gasped with pleasure, shuddering for more. He slid his finger out torturously slowly, coating her lips and pleasure node with her own silkiness, then pushed two fingers in hard enough to scoot her an inch up the bed. Neria braced herself by clenching the bedsheet into her fists as Teagan lowered himself towards her center.

His hot breath between her legs felt as warm and relaxing as bathing in a hot spring, and she thanked the Maker that he wasted no time getting to work once he was in position. Tracing the outline of her womanly folds for only a moment, he all but threw himself onto her center, flicking and sucking at feverish intervals. His fingers matched pace, jousting and exploring her deeper and deeper, curiously testing every inch of her insides for welcomed sensitivities.

At one point, Teagan delicately cradled her nub between his teeth, applying no pressure, but letting their texture tickle the sensitive area in a way that drove Neria near wild. She shot up in the bed, grasping Teagan behind his soft red hair to lift his face to hers and thank him with her lips, but the humble man allowed only a few seconds’ thanks before returning to his ministrations.

His tongue swirled around her outsides, guiding her pleasure further and further towards release, and when he heard her breath hitch, his suckling intensified, slamming his fingers deep within her and on the mark with every thrust.

Teagan groaned with pleasure, smacking his lips against her soft mound, as if hungrily making up for the meal he had missed. A tingling sensation appeared suddenly deep within Neria’s stomach, where she usually felt butterflies, and she allowed it to radiate out in all directions, overcoming any ounce of strength left in her body with serene submission.

Teagan crawled over her once again, suspended by his muscled arms, and Neria reached up weakly to take his face in her hands.

“That was…”

“Just the beginning,” said Teagan, unlacing his britches with one hand. His swollen manhood all but bounced out of its punishing confines, twitching with eagerness. Neria’s eyes widened, and for a moment worried he actually might not fit inside her.

Noticing her hesitance, Teagan tarried at her entrance, nuzzling the tip in slowly, and searching his love’s eyes for permission.

Neria knew he had fit in once before, but had it been so swollen then? She opened her legs wider and braced herself, but Teagan shook his head slowly, a slight frown of genuine concern creasing his brow. He took her tiny hand in his and brought it to his cock of velvety steel. With his other hand, he brought hers to cup the cheek of his ass, as she had in the windmill.

Enraptured for the moment by the dichotomy of his softness and strength, Neria’s eyes met his with amorous curiosity.

“You set the pace, love,” he said. “Guide me inside you, and if it’s too much, just let go.”  

She applied a bit of pressure to his rear, and he leaned towards her, the tip if his penis dipping gently into her folds.

She removed her hand and he froze, slowly pulling back out, trying not to hurt her.

His sweetness and care flushed her body with wanton desire, and she pulled him eagerly, taking him deep within her with a gasp of pleasure. He was definitely thicker than he had been at the windmill, but she pulled him ever towards her, sliding her hand down his shaft to gently cup his soft jewel sacks.

When he was pushed in to the hilt, Neria arched her back in ecstasy and left him there for a moment, relishing every inch filling her to the brim, completing her.

When she pushed briskly on his hipbone, a shameful apology flashed across Teagan’s face, as if he never should have let her take him at full girth, but she relished in his roughness and speed. She grasped him by the ass, pulling him in and pushing him out again, until he kept pace with the lead she had set.

He ground himself into her, tilting his hips a different way with each thrust, testing like an eager student which positions garnered the most approval. The answer was all of them, but in different ways, and he pounded out the pattern of ecstasy into her small frame.

What Neria had said at the windmill was not false; it usually  _did_  take her quite a long while to reach orgasm, and multiple orgasms within one night was right out. But as Teagan crashed into her with desire alight in his eyes, she could feel another pressure building she’d never felt.

Like the distant rumblings of a summer storm, Neria sensed a heaviness within her –  in that delightful “tickling butterfly” area –  but this was more urgent, a wave building exponentially in power the closer it got to shore.

In a moment of clarity, Neria could feel every inch of Teagan’s cock within her, every throb of blood and expansion of muscle, the curvature of his tip as it barreled in and out, sensuously scooping along her insides and slamming into her sensitive spot over and over and over.

Her eyes nearly rolled back as she bit her lip and whimpered, which only spurned Teagan’s rough rhythm. Soon, her whimpers escalated into alternating groans and gasps, and she dug the tips of her fingers into his strong back as she cried out his name. Teagan labored in keeping his breathing still and closed his eyes, the sight of his enraptured lover becoming too much for him.

As she neared the precipice, he snaked an arm around the small of her back, lifting her up to an unspeakably satisfying angle, and she squeaked out his name once more before the waves of euphoria crashed over her. Her vision blurred and little explosions crackled behind her eyelids as she rode the undulating rapture for seconds into minutes until she could take no more.

She clenched herself around Teagan’s manhood with such fervor, his eyes popped open and he too spilled over the edge, emptying his passion into her. He wasn’t even finished spending himself when he took her mouth hungrily to his and kissed her so deeply, she shuddered in spent pleasure beneath him.

Exhausted, she dropped back to the bed, and Teagan gently slipped out to join her side on the soft sheets. As she caught her breath, he traced tickling lines along her soft stomach until her eyes opened and she beamed at him. He cocked his head to the side, taking in the sight of her glistening face in the candlelight.

A devilish thought struck him, and he tried unsuccessfully to stifle a smile. Neria narrowed her eyes playfully.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Oh, I was just wondering if I’m forgiven.”

Neria giggled incredulously. “Forgiveness for the surprise intrusion tonight or the windmill?”

“Well, I was hoping for both…”

Clicking her tongue in judicious benevolence, Neria replied, “Mmm, I’ll say you’re forgiven for the _windmill.._.”

Teagan lifted himself back on one arm and leered above her once more.

“Not my intrusion then? In that case, love, I must work towards  _full forgiveness_.”

He thrust his head gently into the crook of her neck, his hair tickling her as he nuzzled her to pieces.

“No, no, I can’t take any more!” she squealed. “You’re forgiven!”

But Teagan persisted in planting fluttered kisses all along her collarbone, stopping only when she swept her fingers through his soft hair, bringing his mouth to hers for one last sensual kiss before they both fell asleep.


End file.
